


Losing Out

by Jemisard



Category: The Losers - All Media Types, The Sentinel
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fusion, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-05-28
Updated: 2013-05-27
Packaged: 2017-12-13 05:23:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 479
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/820493
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jemisard/pseuds/Jemisard
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clay is the king of the losers, the human team in the Sentinel world.</p><p>This is a collection of drabbles which will be added to as new pieces are completed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Losing Out

“What do you mean you don’t want a Sentinel? They all want a Sentinel. You can’t find a better sniper than a Sentinel.”

Clay continued to browse the list of names he’d been given. Snipers and their Guides, listed side by side. “I don’t need two new men on my team. I need one.”

“But you want the best and the best-”

“This one.” His finger stopped on the name and tapped. “98% overlapping cluster in under ten seconds.”

“But a Sentinel can give you 100%, with between fifty to ninety on deadshot.”

Clay stared at the man until the junior officer shifted uncomfortably under his gaze.

“Alvarez, then. Down here, sir.”

The booths of the range were shielded from one another, but the backs were open to let Clay glance into each one as they walked. Two man teams, Sentinels down low, Guides resting silent by them, a hand, or a foot, or something in light contact with their partner.

Except Alvarez. The young man crouched by himself, face nestled to his rifle like any world class violinist cradling his instrument. His shots were fast and sharp, accurate even against the moving targets the snipers trained against.

Clay tapped the admin officer on the shoulder. “Give me a reload on them all. I want to see the current scores while you load a new set of targets. I want to see them at work.”

The officer turned to the terminal and halted the current round, loading the scores while the new targeting patterns was loaded. Clay browsed the scores, nodding as he saw that, once again, Alvarez was at the bottom of the listing.

“I’ve set up fifteen targets in a thirty second burst, sir, is that acceptable?”

Clay nodded absently. “Proceed, corporal.”

The buzzer sounded and guns snapped up to attention.

Three seconds. Eight seconds.

Clay casually drew the grenade and dropped it, closing his own eyes.

The flash bang detonated on ten seconds. There were screams as stunned Sentinels were overwhelmed, deafened by the crack and blinded by the brilliant light. Roars of anger and pain and outraged Guides trying to soothe overloaded senses. The corporal was yelling at Clay, shocked and horrified and calling security.

The buzzer clicked again.

Clay ignored the ruckus and checked the scores, and, smiling to himself, moved to nudge Alvarez’s shoulder. The sniper looked up, removing his earplugs and standing to attention.

“Alvarez, congratulations, you’ve just been reassigned. I’m Colonel Franklin Clay and you, soldier, have just become a Loser.”

“Colonel, you can’t just come in here and detonate ordinance! You could have done serious damage to any of the Sentinels!”

The click-click of the lighter filled the silence while Clay lit his cigarette and inhaled, sliding the lighter back in his pocket.

“That, Corporal, is why I don’t need a Sentinel. Come on, Alvarez.”

And he left, smugly satisfied.


End file.
